


Lower the curtain down all right

by seren_ccd



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:43:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You'd best get inside, Mrs. Travis," he said in an even tone. "All sorts of bad elements out on a night like this." Chris/Mary UST</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lower the curtain down all right

**Author's Note:**

> This is an upload of an old story written Oct 2009. The title comes from the song "Under the Milky Way" by the Church, but especially the cover version by Grant Lee Phillips.

It was a strange, arrhythmic tapping that woke Mary up. At first she believed she'd just been dreaming the odd noise, but when her eyes finally opened, she realized the sound was real. She held very still as she tried to identify the tapping. After determining it must be coming from outside, she sighed and threw back the covers. The wooden floor was cool against her bare feet and she grabbed her shawl off the foot of the bed. Mary draped it loosely over her shoulders and lit a candle to light her way downstairs.  
  
She padded lightly down the stairs, the remnants of sleep drifting away with each step. Now that she was more awake, she became aware of the howl of the wind as it blew through the town. The storm that had been threatening the territory all week appeared to be just about to break. The air smelled of rain and Mary was grateful for it. Maybe it would help settle the anxiety felt by a lot of the farmers.   
  
Once she got to doorway into the Clarion's office, she paused to try to locate the source of the noise.   
  
It was coming from just outside the front door to the office. Mary came to a stop and tilted her head to listen. The tapping was tinny and seemed to come and go with the wind. She rolled her eyes as the identity of the culprit dawned on her. She quickly unlocked the door and stuck her head out to look at the thin metal sign that had finally come loose.   
  
With the words  _The Clarion_  clearly printed on the front, the sign swung on it's last remaining nail and as the wind blew, it lifted up and then crashed back to the side of the building.   
  
Mary gathered her shawl and after a brief look around at the sleeping town, stepped out of her office. The rain hadn't quite started but she could hear the thunder rumbling in the distance. The wind swirled her nightgown around her ankles and she used a hand to push her hair away from her face. She took a hold of the sign and attempted to pull it off the side of the building. The nail was thin but stubborn and the sign refused to be moved. Mary gritted her teeth and tried again, but the sign slipped out of her grasp to clang loudly to the wall.  
  
"Bit late for repair works," a low voice drawled behind Mary.  
  
Mary spun around quickly and faced the person who'd spooked her. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief when she recognized the figure in black leaning against the porch rail.   
  
"Mr. Larabee," she said straightening her shawl over her shoulders. "You startled me."  
  
The gunslinger inclined his head in acknowledgement and said, "Sign finally come loose?"  
  
"Yes. It woke me up," Mary said doing her best to ignore the familiar tug and swirl in her stomach that was only ever occurred in this man's presence. "I thought I would just take it down. I'll put it back up tomorrow."  
  
Chris just nodded his head once and didn't comment, his eyes fixed on hers. The wind picked up once again and the tail of his black duster flared around his legs and then settled back. Mary shivered, but not from cold.   
  
Over the last few months, they'd managed to ease into a friendly relationship, of sorts. Mary had fallen into a liaison-like position between the town and the seven men; while Chris had fallen into the role of leader. They shared a common desire to protect the small town and its inhabitants and over the year held a great deal of respect for the other. While the two conversed nearly every day, it was almost always in the presence of others; which Mary was grateful for, as she really did not know what exactly to do with the tempestuous feelings he ignited in her. She wanted to say something, anything to break the silence that had descended upon them, but couldn't find any words as she stared back at him.   
  
There was a sharp crack of lightning and thunder rumbled again, edging it's way closer to town. Mary started slightly at the sound and finally broke eye contact as she looked off in the distance at the coming storm. She looked back at Chris when she heard him straighten and move in her direction. As he came closer, she noticed that the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and she was taken aback at the glimpse of flesh right below his neck. Mary unknowingly raised her hand to clutch at the neckline of her nightgown and brought her eyes quickly back up to Chris, who was still advancing slowly towards her.   
  
He came to a stop right in front of her and she could feel the warmth, no, the  _heat_  of his body. Chris kept his eyes on her face even as he reached around her and with very little effort yanked the sign off the wall. The nail made a soft clink as it fell to the ground. Mary let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Chris gave her a little half smile and set the sign down.  
  
"I'll come by tomorrow and fix it for you," he said.  
  
"Thank you," she said swallowing hard. "But, you don't have to. I'm sure I can--"  
  
"I said I'll come by, Mary," Chris said leaning into her space, and she inhaled sharply at the look in his eyes. "That means I'll come by."  
  
Mary frowned at his tone and the hint of spirits that she could smell. "Are you drunk, Mr. Larrabee?"  
  
His half smile slowly became a full one as he let his eyes roam over her face. "Been drinkin'," he said. "Not drunk."  
  
"There's a difference?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, yes, ma'am," he said finally letting his eyes meet hers. "There is indeed. When a man's drunk, he don't necessarily know what he's about. Won't remember his actions the next day. If he's just been drinkin'... Well, then he knows exactly what he's gettin' himself into."  
  
Chris let his eyes travel down and then back up the length of her body to rest on her face.  
  
Mary shivered again and her fingers reflexively clenched at the fabric of her nightgown. "Well, thank you for offering to help. It's very neighbourly of you."   
  
Chris looked down and chuckled darkly. The sound immediately inflamed all of Mary's senses. She could feel the weight of the oncoming rain, the grit of the sand beneath her bare feet, the scent of the man in front of her; they all washed over her with the force of a tidal wave. She felt her lips part when he raised his head to look at her once more.  
  
"It ain't  _neighbourly_  what I'm feeling, Mary," he said.   
  
Every muscle in her body froze and a frission of something dangerous and desperate traveled down her spine to curl up tight in her stomach.  
  
Before she could stop herself, the hand that was clutching the front of her nightgown, let go and drifted towards him. His brow furrowed at the movement, but he held still and she let the tips of her fingers lightly touch the skin below his throat. She traced along his collarbone, up the muscle of his neck and then her fingers trailed along the line of his jaw. His eyes shut as if in pain and she gently cupped the side of his face. His skin was hot and the stubble scraped deliciously against her palm. Her thumb brushed the corner of his lips and with a groan, his eyes flew open and he grabbed her hand.  
  
She sucked in a breath. His hand was rough but warm and his fingers held her firmly.  
  
Without removing his eyes from hers, Chris lifted her hand and pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist. Mary felt her knees weaken as all of her blood seemed to rush from her head. His lips parted and he took a ragged breath. He trailed his mouth from her wrist to her palm and he squeezed his eyes shut again. She felt the slightest brush of his tongue on her skin and she must have made a noise of some kind, because his eyes opened and he pulled away.  
  
Chris abruptly let go of her and took a step back. Mary's hand was still outstretched and it took her a minute before she let it fall to her side. She blinked at him.  
  
"You'd best get inside, Mrs. Travis," he said in an even tone. "All sorts of bad elements out on a night like this."   
  
He brushed past her and walked down the sidewalk. Mary stood frozen as the first fat rain drops began to fall. Then she turned and went inside, locked the door and ran up the stairs to her bed where she immediately curled up and tried to forget the way Chris Larabee had touched her like no one else had ever dared to before.  
  
***  
  
The next morning, Chris woke up feeling like fifty miles of rough track. He raised his head and squinted at the pale sunlight coming in through the window of his small room at the boarding house. The heavy rains of the night before had stopped but the clouds were still building up for more. He could smell it.   
  
He had the terrible feeling that he'd done something last night that was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, but in his still drowsy state, he couldn't quite recollect what it was.  
  
Chris scrubbed his hand over his face and froze when he smelled the faintest hint of lavender. He held his hand to his nose and inhaled. Yep. Lavender.  
  
_Aw, goddamnit,_  he thought as the memory of how he'd touched Mary Travis the night before slammed into his mind like a shotgun blast. Chris let his head fall back on his pillow.  _You goddamn idiot._  
  
He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and groaned. God, he could still smell her. Chris got up out of bed, strode over to the small basin of water on the dresser and shoved his hands into the water. He cupped his hands and splashed the water repeatedly on his face. He finally stopped and stared at his reflection in the dusty mirror.  
  
"Goddamn idiot," he said out loud. He shook the water off his face and got dressed. The last thing the widow needed was him acting like a lovesick puppy, especially one with a record like his. Any soft thoughts about Mary Travis he might have entertained alone in his room with an open bottle at his side had to be left there. Chris wasn't about to act on them. He may be a lawless son of a bitch, but he wasn't a bastard.   
  
But, even as he made his way downstairs and out the door to head to the jail, he still had the impression he'd forgotten something. It wasn't until he was standing outside the jail listening to JD describe the plot of the latest nickel weekly to Vin, and Chris caught sight of the the Clarion's sign still propped up against the wall. The promise he'd made to Mary about fixing the sign came back to him.   
  
He frowned and while he was reluctant to face the woman after how disrespectful he'd been to her the night before, he sure as hell wasn't going to go back on his word.   
  
"Be back shortly," he said to Vin.   
  
"Problem, partner?" Vin asked.  
  
"Naw, just remembered somethin' I needed to do," Chris said. "JD, you got any nails and a hammer?"  
  
"Uh, yes sir, Mr. Larabee," the young man said. "Got a toolbox in the closet in the back."  
  
"Thanks," Chris said before disappearing into the building and emerged a minute later with the toolbox in hand. He felt JD and Vin's eyes on him as he walked across the street to Mary's office. Chris forced himself not to peer in the window to see if she was there, he just set the tools down and picked up the sign.   
  
He eyed the holes left by the old nails and decided to reposition the sign. Chris used a small bit of chalk from the toolbox to mark where the new nails would go and got to work.  
  
After he'd hammered one nail into place, the door to the office opened. He looked over to see Mary step out, cross her arms over her chest and lean against the wall on the other side of the open doorway. She had her hair loose and her blue dress only served to enhance the glint of her clear, intelligent eyes.  
  
"Don't let me interrupt," she said with the hint of a smile on her face.  
  
Chris stared back at her, uncertain of how to react to her apparently calm manner. Fact was, he half expected her to slap the living daylights out of him. Lord knew he probably deserved it in light of the liberties he'd taken. Chris swallowed hard and tried to focus on the tools in his hand instead of that damned scent of lavender coming from her.  
  
"Mornin' Mrs. Travis!" JD called out.   
  
"Good morning, Sheriff, Mr. Tanner," she said to the men across the way.   
  
"Heck of a storm last night," JD said.   
  
"It was indeed," Mary said.   
  
"Kept me up half the night," the young sheriff went on to say. "Not sure I like it when it gets all heavy like that."  
  
A little enigmatic smile appeared on her face and she said, "Oh, I don't know. I think it's good for the land when it does. Stirs things up, makes sure the growing can continue whereas it might have cause to stagnate from lack of change."  
  
JD fell quiet as he tried to puzzle out the widow's meaning, while Vin just hid a smile and nodded his head at her. Chris said nothing but he paused for a moment before he continued to hammer the last two nails.  
  
He dropped the hammer back into the toolbox and ran a finger across the top of the sign, making sure it was even and secure.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Larabee," Mary said.   
  
"Said I'd fix it," Chris said quietly. "Wouldn't go back on my word."  
  
"I know you wouldn't," she said just as quietly.   
  
Chris debated whether or not to mention his actions of the night before and before he could decide, he found himself saying, "I owe you an apology, Mary. For last night. Shouldn't have acted as I did."  
  
The widow was silent and she looked off into the distance at the clouds that still hovered and threatened more rain. Chris gazed at her profile and beat down the urge to trace the curve of her cheek. Mary seemed to come to some kind of decision and faced him.  
  
"Mr. Larabee, I've had the good fortune to come into possession of a large pot of Mabel Goodley's stew," she said. Chris stared blankly at her confused by the odd turn the conversation had just taken. "She's under the impression that I'm completely unable to cook for myself and frequently brings me food. Now, there is no way I'm going to be able to finish what she's brought me and I hate to see it go to waste. Would you care to join me for lunch later on today?"  
  
It was only years of perfecting his poker face that stopped Chris' jaw from dropping. As it was, it took him a minute to gather together words to reply, "Mrs. Travis--"  
  
"Chris, you were not the only one to act on an instinct last night," Mary said cutting him off. "I see two options before us, we either blame it on the storm, in my case or the drink, in yours. Or, we accept it and move on. I believe I already know what I'd like to do."  
  
Once again, the woman had succeeded in completely throwing all his good intentions out the door. It occurred to him that he was never going to be able to predict this woman's mood or actions. But, what surprised him the most was just how attractive he found the challenge.  
  
He must have been standing in silence for too long, because Mary flushed slightly as she looked down at the ground and said, "You're, of course, welcome to invite Mr. Tanner if you feel that would be more respectable..."  
  
"Now, why would I go and do that?" he asked the corners of his lips turning up. "I don't see him over here fixin' your sign."  
  
Mary raised her head and smiled. "You're absolutely correct, it wouldn't be very fair to you would it?"  
  
"No, ma'am," Chris said. "It sure wouldn't."  
  
"Well, then," she said. "I imagine I'll see you later."  
  
"Reckon you will," he said as he touched his fingers to his hat before he picked up the toolbox. "May I say, it's mighty _neighbourly_  of you to share the food."  
  
His use of the word from the night before was not lost on Mary. Chris felt his chest tighten as she quirked her lips and said archly, "Well, it's a funny thing, Mr. Larabee. The last thing I'm feeling is neighbourly."  
  
She gave him a nod and went back into the Clarion's office. Chris found himself chuckling as he headed back to the jail.  
  
***  
  
The good citizens of Four Corners tended to avoid Chris Larabee out of habit, but they especially kept their distance that day as every now and then, the man in black would get a grin on his face as he looked up at the storm clouds. Almost like he was remembering a joke meant only for him.


End file.
